


Working Overtime

by virgilsjourney (jenna221b)



Series: Sanders Sides Ficlets [9]
Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Roman, One Shot, Roman needs a break, Virgil gives advice, Virgil's Room, caring Virgil, takes place after Moving On Part 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 20:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12540752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenna221b/pseuds/virgilsjourney
Summary: “Frustrated? Why would I be frustrated? That’s stupid.”Virgil sighs. “Do you ever actually listen to me? It’s notstupidto be feeling, well, anyth-”“Yeah, I know,” Roman brushes him off quickly, “And that was great advice for Patton and all but-”“For... Patton...” Virgil repeats faintly, then: “Woah, woah, woah,wait. What makes you think I wasn’t talking to you, too?”





	Working Overtime

And what about this! No... no, that can’t work- how stupid, stupid to even think of such a- but wait! Perhaps if... no, surely... well, it’s the only thing he can think of, and it’s not perfect, but that doesn’t mean it’s awful- oh, who is he kidding, it’s  _awful_ -

Roman doesn’t even notice that he’s in Virgil’s room, until he hears:

“What. The.  _Hell,_ Roman.”

He flinches, turning around to see Virgil sitting up in bed, hair a mess, headphones askew.

“Oops. Sorry, Virgil, I didn’t mean to- it’s just I have-”

“I’d be very careful how you finish that sentence,” Virgil seethes. “Because if it’s “I have another idea,” then I might actually murder you.”

Roman scoffs, seizing the chance to deflect. “I’d like to see you try.”

Virgil scowls. “Don’t push it. I’ve already written your eulogy, it’s so angsty even Logan might cry.”

“I-” And, he tries not to say it, he really does, but Virgil’s room already has his heart racing, and the words claw up and out of his throat like some horrifying whirlwind. “It’s just, I have another idea and I can’t stop and it’s not the best, it’s not even good, but it’s all I  _have_  so we have to, we have to  _do_ something and-”

“Roman-what-slow down.” Virgil sets down his headphones, and Roman can see him frowning, as if he’s replaying Roman’s frantic jumble of a speech. “Wait.  _What_  did you say?”

Roman paces around the room, wringing his hands. “Were you not listening? I- I have an idea, we need to-”

“Not that bit.”

Roman jumps as he turns around to pace again, and Virgil is right in front of him. He places both hands on his shoulders, and says, quite matter of fact, “Come on, let’s go.”

Roman tries to follow his lead but, instead of transporting out of Virgil’s room like he intended, he just feels his legs buckle, and his head spins.

“Woah! Jeez, Roman, are you- when was the last time you slept?” 

And he laughs, because really, it  _is_  funny to hear Mr ‘I worship the Devil’s Hour’ ask that question with such concern. 

But, Virgil isn’t laughing.

“Not funny,” he says. Roman feels himself being practically dragged over to the bed, and he sits down, trying not to let his shoulders slump too obviously. All the while, Virgil mutters above him: “Okay, so you have to stay here, that’s-uh, not ideal, crap- right, stop, breathe, I can- I can make this work-”

When Roman raises his head, he’s surprised to see the room look much brighter than normal, the shadowy walls fading slightly. His heartbeat, finally, slows just a little. Virgil stands in front of him, and his breathing is so consciously measured, hands rising and falling in time with it. Guilt makes a tight knot in Roman’s stomach.

“I’m- I’m sorry, Virgil. I’m getting this all wrong again, it’s nothing really, I should-”

“ _No_.” There’s the slight telltale distortion to Virgil’s voice, and Roman tries not to cringe. But Virgil just clears his throat, breathes out again, then repeats, “No,” in his normal voice, but much softer than usual. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Virgil fixes him with a knowing stare. “You’re covering up. What’s this really about? Listen, I know it’s frustrating, I  _get_  it, but you can’t just be constantly thinking of new stuff all the-”

“Frustrated? Why would I be frustrated? That’s stupid.”

Virgil sighs. “Do you ever actually listen to me? It’s not  _stupid_  to be feeling, well, anyth-”

“Yeah, I know,” Roman brushes him off quickly, “And that was great advice for Patton and all but-”

“For... Patton...” Virgil repeats faintly, then: “Woah, woah, woah,  _wait_. What makes you think I wasn’t talking to you, too?”

Roman knows he could just haughtily say he’s above such things, but he also knows he would be lying. He feels... quite the opposite, anyway.

And Virgil’s eyes widen as if he’s finally found the missing puzzle piece. “Oh, Roman,” he whispers, and it’s so odd, how hearing something so simple can have Roman thinking he’s been found out. He looks away, down at Virgil’s bare feet on the black carpet. The sight wavers a little, as if there’s spots in his vision, and he blinks hard before he can think about it and-

Oh. A drop of water on the carpet. Then another, and another. He almost could pretend it’s just a fall of rain.

Virgil doesn’t mention it, and Roman is grateful for that. He sits next to Roman and gives him time to just breathe. Then, he nudges his shoulder. 

“Hey,” he says. “Would you say Patton was stupid if he was feeling sad?” Roman shakes his head. “Or if Logan couldn’t figure something out right away?” 

Again, he shakes his head. There’s a long pause.

“And... what about me?” Virgil asks quietly. Roman distinctly hears him swallow. “Would you say I was stupid if I... panicked?”

Roman raises his head. “Of course not!” His voice sounds wobbly and awful, but he’s never been surer of anything.

Virgil smiles, somehow both sad and knowing at the same time. “So what makes you any different?”

Roman shakes his head. “I...”

Virgil squeezes his knee. “Don’t be your own villain, Roman.”

“I...”

“It’s not fair on you.”

“I...” Roman sighs. “I’m so tired.”

Virgil half groans half laughs. “Yeah, I know.” He gently kicks Roman’s leg. “Go on, then.”

“What... but...” His head is still swimming, and he knows his own room is out of the question for now, but... this still seems too much of an ask. “But you-”

Virgil just waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t sweat it. You’ve been working overtime, I can take the night-shift,” he says, tongue in cheek. “Besides,” he adds, as Roman stretches out, “You’re already stealing my whole light-headed thing. Rude.”

Roman laughs, and it takes him by surprise. “But- what if-”

Virgil clicks his tongue. “Hey. Shh. I’ll deal with the what ifs.”

It’s said in such a final tone, that Roman can only lean back and finally close his eyes in reply. 

“You’ve got this, you know. And, even if you don’t,” Virgil says with ease. “You soon will.”

It’s somehow exactly what Roman needs to hear.


End file.
